


Ports Bakery

by RedStarfish



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baker!Jason, Bakery AU, Divergent Timelines, Family Bonding, Friendship, Gen, Jason Todd-centric, NeverRobin!Jason, Platonic Relationship, Slow Burn, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Tim Drake-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2019-11-19 07:11:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18132575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedStarfish/pseuds/RedStarfish
Summary: Jason is a baker. Nothing more, nothing less. So why the heck was Red Robin sitting outside of his shop?Baker!Jason meets RedRobin!Tim AU





	1. Chapter 1

Jason can hear the commercial fishing boats in the distant, blaring their horns as they arrived with the day’s loads. The smaller boats would be quieter of course, but as he struggled out of bed at 3am, he knows the fishmarket 10 minutes from his shop is just about to open up.

There’d been no gunshots that night, which was always a good sign. That meant any dirty deals in the container port, parked on the other side of his shop, had gone smoothly. 

He went through his usual morning routine, and was mostly awake by the time he stumbled down the stairs of his flat.

Although the bakery was right beneath him, the flat was not connected to the shop. Instead, Jason had to brace himself on the public pavement every day, risking his life with the 3 steps it took to get from his front door to the shop.

Perhaps he was paranoid. But the container port was regularly visited by the criminal elements of Gotham. All it took was a single stray bullet from a deal gone wrong.

Jason peeked out of the peephole on his front door. No sign of the Families. No Crazies either. Not that the Crazies tended to bother coming so far out. There weren’t enough people here to be of interest to them. At least not yet.

Maybe in a couple of hours, once the fishmarket hits peak time. By then, Jason would be inside his bakery with its bulletproof windows and walls.

He grabbed his keys, keeping an eye out just in case, and slipped past his front door. He triple locked it, as usual, before turning towards his shop.

Jason nearly had a heart attack at the sight before him.

There, sitting on the floor and leaning against his reinforced glass doors, was a vigilante.

If this was any other city, Jason probably would have blinked sleepily and wondered if he was dreaming.

Given that this was Gotham, Jason’s first reaction was to stumble back towards his front door and glance around to see if there was an escaped Arkham inmate in close proximity. There wasn’t.

He turned back to the vigilante.

It was a teenager, Robin by the looks of it. Though Jason wasn’t sure why there were two ‘R’s on his logo.

The teen was leaning back against the glass of his shopfront. As if he’d dozed off. Or was contemplating the murky clouds of the Gotham night sky. His eyes were open though, so it was a little creepy.

Jason contemplated his options, still feeling incredulous at the masked kid before his eyes. It was the first time he had so much as seen a vigilante in real life. The Bats weren’t like Superman of Metropolis. They didn’t do public appearances.

He hadn’t expected Robin to be so small.

“Hey,” he said. No response. “Hey Robin.”

Robin jolted in place, head snapping in Jason’s direction immediately. With the better angle, Jason realised that there were white lenses attached to the vigilante’s mask.

Perhaps Robin’s eyes hadn’t been open after all.

“Oh,” Robin said, sounding like he’d spent the night holding up the weight of the world. “You’re here.”

Jason paused, eyes narrowing in suspicious. Maybe he was being arrested. “Whatever it is you think I’ve done, I didn’t do it.”

Robin didn’t so much as raise his eyebrows. He simply jabbed a thumb at the bakery. “It says you open at 6am,” Robin said. Then he yawned. “I really need coffee.”

“I don’t know what clock you’re checking, but it’s 3:30 right now,” Jason said.

“Bakeries tend to start baking 3 hours before opening time,” Robin replied.

“There are plenty of 24hr diners around,” Jason replied, even as his mind spun with the fact that he was having a conversation about coffee (and where one should procure it) with a vigilante.

“This was closest.”

Jason let out a frustrated breath.

“I can pay you,” Robin offered. “Pay you extra, I mean. Obviously I’d pay you for the coffee.”

As tempting as that was, Jason wasn’t sure teenage vigilantes should be drinking coffee after a long night of fighting crime. He’s not sure he should be enabling such a habit either. Adult responsibility and all that.

“I’m serious,” Robin said, sounding almost desperate. “I’ve got $200 of cash on me right now.”

That was sort of alarming, for a variety of reasons.

“You carry that much on you regularly?”

“It’s not like I’d get mugged,” Robin deadpanned in response. Jason supposed that was true. He sighed.

Vigilantes being in close proximity were normally bad news. When they weren’t busy being invisible to civilians, they tended to attract attention-seeking homicidal maniacs.

Still, Batman and his flock did good work. Even if Jason didn’t particularly agree with their methods, he could spare 10 minutes to get Robin a cup of coffee.

“Fine,” he grumbled, stepping forward with his shop keys.

Robin moved out of the way, standing up with a fluidity Jason could only dream of achieving. They really were something else.

He unlocked his shop.

“Sit anywhere you want,” Jason said, holding his door open. Once Robin had entered the shop, Jason closed the door and locked it again. He may be okay with getting Robin a cup of coffee, but there was no way he was risking any loons or drunks or homeless dudes getting in.

Thankfully, Robin didn’t comment on his justified paranoia. He simply pulled out a chair and sat down. Jason noticed that he chose a seat where he could easily see both the door and the counter. Smart kid.

“How do you like your coffee?” he asked, turning the machine on.

“Black. Filtered. Double shots.” Robin replied.

That was pretty easy then. “Machine needs to warm up,” he said. Robin simply nodded in response.

Part of Jason wanted to go into the kitchen to turn his ovens on, but there was no way he was leaving a stranger in his shop unsupervised. Vigilante or no.

The silence was awkward though. But it wasn’t like there were any easy conversations to have in this situation. Jason considered his options. And then decided he will simply ask the obvious ones, such as whether there were any imminent danger to the area within the next week or so and if that was why Robin was in the area.

He wondered if vigilantes were allowed to talk about their open cases, or if there were strict codes of confidentiality like the cops (especially the corrupt cops, they loved their secrets).

“So...Robin…” Jason began.

“Red Robin,” Robin corrected.

“What?”

“Red Robin,” Robin repeated. “My name is Red Robin.”

“When did you add a ‘red’ to the beginning?” Jason frowned. “I thought it was Batman and Robin. Not Batman and Red Robin.”

Robin didn’t reply. Simply pressed his lips together and did not speak for several moments.

“It  _ is _ Batman and Robin. Someone else is Robin at the moment,” Red Robin eventually said, sounding surprisingly calm. Far too calm, as if he was repressing his emotions. That type of calm.

Jason wondered if he’d insulted the kid by this lack of vigilante knowledge. Not that he particularly cared, he never felt any inclinations to follow the movements of the capes. They did good work, but they lacked resolve.

Fortunately, Jason didn’t have to continue the awkward and stilted conversation. The machine was ready, and he made the coffee within minutes before plonking it in front of Red Robin.

He sort of wished he had a pastry to put there too, the kid looked far too skinny for his own good.

“Thank you,” Red Robin said.

Jason nodded and went about tidying up the shop front, still not entirely comfortable with heading into the back, even though he really needed to start on the bread. Red Robin didn’t take long though. And as Jason wondered what else he could do for the front of his shop, there was a decisive click of the front door closing behind him.

He spun around. Red Robin was gone. With nearly no hints of him ever being there. A quick check of the front door revealed that it was locked. Which meant in the few seconds Jason had not been watching the guy, he had managed to unlock the front door, slip out and lock it again. Then disappeared into the night.

Those vigilantes really were something else.

_ At least he kept his side of the deal, _ Jason noted, picking up the $200 wad of cash placed neatly under the coffee cup saucer.

For a moment, Jason was once again struck by how surreal the entire situation was. But then he shrugged and headed back into the kitchen. He had bread to bake, and he was already behind schedule.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for writing such wonderful comments and for leaving so many kudos and bookmarking this fic. It's really motivating and makes me so happy. I hope you enjoy this chapter too. <3 <3 <3

Jason doesn’t see Red Robin again for a few months. He doesn’t think much about it, after all, as far as he was concerned, it was a one-off thing where he got $200 for a measly cup of coffee.

Or so he thought. Until one morning, at 3:30am as per Jason’s usual schedule, he came downstairs to find the vigilante sprawled across the ground before his door.

His bakery’s door, not the front door into his apartment.

Not that they were all that far apart.

Jason paused, hesitating. He gave his surroundings a once over, but just like last time, there was no crazy villain about to spray his face with laughing gas.

He shut his front door.

“You here for coffee again or am I a suspect?” Jason said as he inched towards the boy on the ground. From this vantage point, Red Robin really looked barely older than 14.

Red Robin gave a loud groan. He doesn’t lift his head from the crook of his elbow. “Neither,” he said, voice muffled. Then he took his arm away. “Although coffee would be nice.”

“Right,” Jason nodded. “Well you’re in the way of that.”

Red Robin shifted, rolling away from the door with significantly less grace than Jason had previously seen from him. Jason narrowed his eyes.

“You’re not bleeding are you? Because if you are, you’re not stepping anywhere near my shop.” Not that Jason was likely to be able to stop him. He heard the Bats were fierce opponents, even when they were injured. He’d even heard rumours that Batman himself once took down Two Face after being stabbed in the heart.

Of course, Jason had also heard rumours that the Joker once chopped Batman’s head off and still couldn’t stop himself from getting arrested.

“I’m not bleeding,” Red Robin confirmed, patting his thigh with a hand. Then he frowned and looked down. “Correction. I might be bleeding.” And then Red Robin pulled out what appeared to be an entire first aid kit from a pouch on his belt.

Jason stood there stupefied for a moment as Red Robin cut off some stitches on his leg and then proceeded to sew himself back up. Then he realised he was staring and began unlocking his shop.

“I’ll get you a takeout cup,” he said.

\---

It becomes a thing. Red Robin sitting outside his bakery before opening time becomes a thing.

Not frequent enough for Jason to expect him with any sort of regularity. But Jason no longer jumped when he saw the vigilante leaning (usually half-asleep) against his shop door.

As if the first encounter had been an unspoken contract, Red Robin would slip $200 under an empty coffee cup each time. It was a pretty nice bonus.

Jason had gotten so used to him in the front of his shop these days, he would make the coffee and go around back to start on his baking. That was easier for both of them. No awkward small talk or stilted silences. Jason didn’t even need to adjust his schedule all that much.

If Red Robin was injured or bleeding in any way, Jason got him a takeout cup. Vigilante and welcomed customer or no, he was not having blood in his shop. Nope. That was like a contamination disaster waiting to happen. Especially with the Rogues of Gotham likely to slip the latest biochemical marvel into vigilante bloodstreams.

“I’m not infected,” Red Robin rolled his eyes one evening as Jason handed him his takeout cup. “It’s just a nick.”

Jason’s not sure when he’d begun able to tell when Red Robin was rolling his eyes underneath that mask, but he could and there was no point questioning it.

“Not risking it,” Jason replied promptly. He silently noted with happiness that Red Robin still gave him $200 regardless of whether he sat in the shop or not. Jason wondered if the kid just didn't like counting bills.

Then he started wondering what kind of guardian Batman was, to hand out $200 as pocket money regularly enough that Red Robin was happy to fork it over for a single cup of coffee.

Red Robin had been coming over with increasing frequency over the last few weeks too. Jason wondered how much money Batman had.

_We all knew Batman must have a backer of some sort, how else would he afford the Batmobile. And his submarine._

In fact, didn’t Vicki Vale once write about a Batplane rescuing her from being dropped off the bridge? Even most rich folks couldn’t afford a private plane.

Not that Jason would know.

He was contemplating this one morning when, just as he was about to open his front door, gunshots rang out in the air.

Shots that sounded far too close to his street.

Jason immediately duck down to the ground. His front door wasn’t bulletproof, not like his shop front, but it was better than nothing.

There were a few grunts, a couple of screams, a lot of dull thuds that could be due to any number of reasons. And then sirens in the distant.

Cautiously, Jason stood up and peeked through the peephole. He couldn’t see much, but that was definitely a flash of red.

It was nearing 3:40 at this rate, he had to get started on the baking soon or he’ll be late. One of the bigger fishing boats were due back this morning too, so his bakery was likely to be busier than usual.

But running out and getting shot wasn’t really an option either.

Slowly, Jason snuck back up the stairs. He very carefully made his way over to his window in a crouch and peeked through the curtains.

There were about 12 Suits outside. One of the Families then.

Jason couldn’t really tell which family. Not when they were all tied up and dangling from the lampposts like that, but given the number and the artillery, he would imagine one of the bigger ones. Maybe even Maroni or Falcone.

Red Robin was there, twirling a metal staff around casually as he slowly approached the last Suit standing. The Suit had a machete in his hand.

Jason’s windows weren’t bulletproof either, but they were gloriously triple-glazed, a surprise Jason hadn’t expected when he bought the place along with the shop. While that was brilliant at keeping the cold out, it also meant he couldn’t hear a word that was being said.

And Red Robin was definitely speaking. Saying something to the Suit. Taunting him maybe? Or asking him questions.

The Suit didn’t respond. Just stood there, and then charged.

Jason stood up in alarm. He wanted to shout, to yell, to do something because the guy had a giant knife in his hand, was nearly twice the size of the kid, and likely had a whole lifetime of experience in fighting.

Red Robin didn’t seem worried though. In fact, he barely reacted to the charge, only giving a small sigh as his shoulders drooped slightly.

He sidestepped the Suit, the machete missing him by a mile, then thunked the guy on the head.

Just as the police car pulled up.

Red Robin spoke with the cops for a moment. Then he pulled out some sort of device from his belt, shot something off into the air, then disappeared in a single movement.

Well, Jason knew the kid was a vigilante. He must also have been good to get promoted into Red Robin and allowed to go solo without the protection of Batman.

Yet there was something incredible about seeing that scrawny kid face off against actual henchmen. Men that had guns and were taller and theoretically stronger and had more muscles.

Jason hadn’t realised it, but he’d associated Red Robin with the sleepyhead that begged for coffee in front of his shop. The familiarity had softened the image of the vigilante. He’d almost forgotten that before the kid was at his shop, he would have been swooping around Gotham and fighting crime.

It was sort of amazing that Jason saw someone like that even semi-regularly. That someone so respectable would associate themselves with Jason.

Even if it was just because Jason made him coffee without question these days.

The police took their time in rounding up the Suits on Jason’s streets.

He didn’t dare leave his flat until everyone had cleared out, not wanting to be questioned or known to be in the area for any reason. That meant he didn’t get into his bakery until 4:30. A whole hour later than usual.

There was no way he was going to get all his bread baked in time. Some of the dough was going to be unusable and wasted too.

Jason swore to himself as he hurried around the kitchen. He couldn’t hurry too much, least he affected the quality of his goods, but he could speed certain things up a little. It wouldn’t help that much, an hour was a long time to not prep, but there was nothing he could do about that.

He was so busy cursing the Families that it wasn’t until he was setting up the front of the store, warming up the coffee machine and grumbling to himself, that he noticed the envelope sitting on top of his cash register.

Jason blinked.

He paused in his manic rushing about and opened the envelope. Then he nearly dropped it in shock.

There was an entire wad of cash in there. All $100 bills. Plus a note.

_“Sorry for cutting into your baking time. Here’s some compensation for your lost sales.”_

Jason swallowed thickly. The logical part of him was immediately relieved. It meant he wouldn’t have to scrap around to make the bank repayments that month. But the emotional part of him was a mix of confused, conflicted and concerned.

It was clear the envelope was from Red Robin, but why? Red Robin didn’t have to do this. He didn’t have to compensate him just because the Families were causing a fuss near this stretch of the harbour.

In fact, why was he even giving Jason money? Did it look like he needed charity?! He was a working man. Not some homeless louse begging on the streets.

At the same time, it was thoughtful of Red Robin to be aware of the impact his vigilantism would have on the surrounding neighbourhood.

Not to mention the kid apparently cared enough about Jason’s wellbeing and livelihood to help him out.

This was the first time since his mother died that Jason had anyone voluntarily help him as an individual. To be considerate of his life. As much as the idea of charity - and Red Robin apparently being rich enough to throw $100 bills at acquaintances - rankled and irritated him, Jason also felt strangely...happy.

It was weird.

The happiness was soon followed by suspicion. What was Red Robin’s ulterior motive.

It took less than a second for Jason to conclude there wasn’t any. Because it was pretty clear what Red Robin’s motivation was. Jason’s bakery was the nearest place to the docks that could supply fresh coffee at 3am in the morning. It was in Red Robin’s interest to help keep it in business.

Just like Batman, Jason now had an unofficial financial backer.

All because he had a coffee machine.

Shrugging, and slipping the envelope full of bills into the safe beneath the cash register, Jason returned to opening his shop.

His rep will still take a slight hit from selling out too soon that morning, but he had no competitors in the immediate area, so the customers should still visit his shop regularly enough. His bakery was going to survive for a little longer yet.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the comments and kudos and bookmarks! Thank you to those who wanted to leave another kudos after chapter 2. I hope this fic continues to please you all.

One day, Red Robin visited the bakery at 5:30am.

Jason had been arranging the bread baskets, the remaining dough either in the ovens or rising in the bins, when he turned around and nearly jumped out of his skin.

“How long have you been sitting there?!” he couldn’t help but yelp.

Red Robin didn’t even look up. Nor did he bother lifting his head from where it was slumped on the table at his usual spot. “About 6 and a half minutes or so. Give or take 10 seconds.”

Jason wasn’t sure how to reply to that.

“Have you been up all night?” he asked. It was a Thursday. A school day. It couldn’t be healthy for Red Robin to be awake until 5:30am on a school night.

Or a school day.

Or a school week.

Jason frowned. Now that he thought about it, being up until 3:30am can’t be all that healthy either.

“Yeah…” Red Robin said, clearly fighting against sleep valiantly. “I have an exam later.”

Jason pulled a face. Definitely not a good idea to take an exam whilst sleep deprived.

“Can I have some coffee please?” Red Robin asked, voice almost meek. It was a big difference from the usual nonchalance. He must be tired.

More tired than usual that was. Since Red Robin always looked about to fall over when he visited Jason’s bakery.

“Er, yeah, sure.” Jason was finished with the main prep for the morning. This was when he would take a break and have breakfast. “You want the usual?” he asked, because the situation itself was very not the usual.

“Please,” Red Robin said. He still hadn’t raised his head from the table. Jason was starting to get worried.

“Any particular reason why you’re here at 5:30 instead?” Jason asked a few moments later as he placed the coffee in front of the vigilante. “On an exam day at that.”

“Dollmaker,” was all Red Robin said, before he reverently picked up the coffee cup.

“Um, what?”

“A villain. He kidnaps children and...you probably don’t want to know the details.”

“I...see…”

Red Robin seems entirely too preoccupied with his coffee. Although Jason wasn’t a huge advocate of caffeine addiction (or any sort of addiction for that matter), he made another cup and placed it in front of the teenage vigilante.

“You allergic to anything?” Jason asked.

“Hmm?”

“Are you allergic to anything. I’m about to make some breakfast.”

Red Robin looked startled. “Oh...no, you don’t have to.”

“Can’t be taking exams on an empty stomach,” Jason replied. He began walking back towards the kitchens. He paused in the doorway, giving Red Robin an expectant look until the vigilante shook his head.

“No, I’m not allergic to anything.”

Jason’s shop was predominantly a bakery. But he had a small stove in the corner for his own food. Sasha was always asking why he didn’t extend his bakery into a full-on cafe. To sell things like bacon butties or sausage rolls. Especially since he already had a coffee machine. But Jason didn’t want to stray too far from the baking.

He grabbed some ingredients out of his fridge and made a pair of egg, bacon and sausage sandwiches. Using freshly baked baguettes. He already had plates for if the patrons wanted to eat their bread and coffee, so he grabbed a couple of those and did his best to make everything presentable.

Then he stared and frowned and wondered why he was even bothering. The teenager sitting outside seemed barely able to keep his eyes open right now.

Jason shrugged, grabbed the plates and nudge the kitchen door open.

Red Robin had already finished his first cup of coffee and was making quick work of the second cup. Jason pulled a face at the caffeine reliance.

“Here,” he said, putting a plate in front of him. “Eat.” Then he sat down opposite and dug into his own sandwich.

Red Robin stared at the food. A strange and indecipherable expression on his face.

“Something wrong?” Jason asked, slowly chewing his sandwich. Maybe the kid was a vegetarian. He should have checked.

But Red Robin simply shook his head again. “No,” he said, rather forcefully. Then a softer, “no, this is great. Thank you.” He picked up his own sandwich and began to eat.

For a while, there was nothing but the sounds of them chewing through their breakfast. The silence wasn’t awkward though. Somehow, there was an air of calm between them. A comfortable companionship.

It suddenly occurred to Jason that he hadn’t eaten like this with someone else for years. Prior to getting his bakery, his sole focus had been in learning the craft and earning enough money for the aforementioned bakery.

Before that, he had been living on the streets. During which he had only thought about surviving.

Surviving and avoid getting suckered in to the drug trade.

The problem with being a homeless kid with nowhere to go and no one to protect you, was that everyone wanted a piece of you. The Families wanted you as their runner. The drug lords wanted you to sell their products. The pimps wanted to sell you.

Everyone else wanted you as a spy or a lookout or to crawl through small windows. Children were free labour.

Not just that, children were free labour that didn’t do any significant jail time if caught.

If by some chance, a homeless kid was found by an honest cop or even social services, then they were placed into the foster care system or an orphanage. Another trap. Another cage to break out of.

As a result, Jason actively avoided all contact with humans when he was kicked out onto the streets. He avoided the gangs, the thieves and even the small clusters of innocent homeless families down on their luck, huddled around a metal bin of burning fire.

He thought only about getting food, water and a warm corner to sleep in.

He broke into empty and derelict apartments. Sold a few stolen tires to local garages where he could. Running away whenever he started gathering attention.

It was a common way of life for the homeless children of Gotham.

So focused had he been on surviving, Jason barely spoke two words to anyone for years. There was a time he was convinced he’d forgotten  _ how _ to talk properly. Nevermind actually sitting and eating with anyone.

If someone approached him when Jason was eating, chances were that a fistfight would break out over the food. That happened a lot too.

The suspicion around those who approached him while he ate was a habit he carried with him, even when his life started to take a turn for the better.

And once he got his bakery up and running, the only one around he could have plausibly eaten with was Sasha, his shop assistant. But they always staggered their breaks so someone could watch the bakery. And Sasha always rushed off home as soon as her shifts ended. To look after her sick dad.

That meant the last time he ever actually had a meal with someone...was when his mother was alive.

It was a rather depressing thought.

He shoved that piece of revelation to the side and turned his attention back to his food. Then to the vigilante sitting opposite him.

Red Robin was still staring at his sandwich. He’d taken maybe one or two bites, and was now simply staring at it.

If Jason didn’t know any better, he would have thought the kid was about to cry.

Which was stupid. Who would cry over a sandwich?

Correction. Who would cry over a sandwich when they regularly gave away $200 for a cup of coffee. Jason had felt plenty emotional when he had first been able to eat regularly, but he felt that was pretty justified given his childhood.

Maybe he just didn’t like the sandwich. Jason hesitated as he paused in his chewing.

“You want brown sauce or something?” Jason asked. “I have brown sauce. Or ketchup.”

“No,” Red Robin replied immediately. “I’m sorry. It’s just. It’s been a while since I ate with someone.”

“Oh.”

Jason wasn’t sure what to say so he stuffed the last bit of his baguette into his mouth. Red Robin took a bite of his own food. As they sat there in companionable silence, a thought occurred to Jason.

“You never eat with your family?” he asked, as he dusted his hands, remnants of his breakfast on his plate.

“My father died last year,” Red Robin said. His tone was extremely matter-of-fact. “My mother when I was 11.”

“Oh.” Jason shifted uncomfortably. “I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.”

One year wasn’t really a long time. But Jason didn’t push. He wanted to ask what about Batman, but it was clear that Batman was not actually Red Robin’s father. The kid was still a kid though. It seemed sort of unbelievable that he lived on his own.

At any rate, Red Robin was now chomping through his food at a pretty healthy pace. Jason didn’t want to interrupt him.

When Red Robin was done, Jason stacked the plates and took them back into the kitchen. In the ten seconds it took him to grab the cleaning supplies to wipe down the table, Red Robin disappeared. Like usual.

Jason stared at the empty seat. At the bills under the now empty stack of coffee cups. And sighed. 

He felt his heart swell strangely with an unidentified emotion at the sight. At the thought of this orphan kid, regularly fighting against supervillains when he should be more worried about passing his exams.

A kid that, despite doing so much for others, ate alone. Because he had no family left.

Jason stood there, swallowing against the tightness in his throat, in his chest. He pushed the emotions down. Down and away where it couldn’t bother anyone.

Red Robin didn’t need anyone to look after him. He could look after himself. That was plenty clear. But Jason couldn’t help but want to bundle him up and take him home and feed him warm soup and bread. To lock away his costume so he could spend nights stressing about mundane things like a normal kid.

Not that Jason had experienced a ‘normal’ childhood himself. But he had seen how kids with family and stable income lived when he had been on the streets. Plus, he’s made inferences from the problems Sasha often complained about. Schoolwork, teachers etc. And he’s read plenty of contemporary fiction to hazard a guess.

None of his books ever mentioned dressing up in a costume at night and fighting criminals as part of a normal childhood. Or, if he was reading urban fantasy, the books would often highlight how that was  _ not _ a normal childhood.

For now, however, Jason settled for clearing away the table, picking up the bills Red Robin left ($500 this time) and getting his bakery ready for opening time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, I've been ill.

“You’ve got to stop giving me so much money,” was the first thing Jason said when he found Red Robin outside his shop door. It’s been about two weeks since their impromptu breakfast, and Red Robin have been dropping by every single day.

The kid was standing for once. His green, yellow and red costume looking ridiculously bright even in the weak light from the temperamental streetlamps.

“You’ve never complained before,” Red Robin said, moving out of the way as Jason unlocked the door.

“I’m not complaining,” Jason clarified. “But it’s getting ridiculous. You can’t give me $200 every day just for making you coffee.”

“It’s not every day,” Red Robin said, following Jason into the shop. “You’re closed on Mondays.”

“The point still stands,” Jason replied. He turned on the coffee machine.

Red Robin didn’t speak for a moment. Jason didn’t think much of it as he made the kid his usual. The kid didn’t speak until Jason set his coffee down in front of him.

“What would be an appropriate amount then?” Red Robin asked.

Jason gave him a funny look. “Are you kidding me?”

“You don’t exactly have a pre-open time price list.”

“Just pay what’s on the board,” Jason rolled his eyes. Then he went around the back to start on the bread.

When he came back out, Red Robin was gone as per usual. There was a $20 dollar note under the cup, which was still way more than what Jason charged for a single cup of coffee. But since this was the first time, Jason decided it was a win.

That was until he noticed the tips jar, full to the brim with scrunched up notes. Jason emptied it, smoothed the notes out, and counted everything. $20 for the coffee, $180 for the tip, $200 in total.

An amused smirk tugged at his lips. “Brat.”

\---

Red Robin returned the next morning. He looked unphased and unrepentant even as Jason gave him a stern glare. But Jason was prepared this time. He’d hidden the tips jar in one of the cupboards. He’d even locked the door. Although it felt a little excessive, he decided he better not take any chances.

There was no random stash of cash on any of the surfaces when he came back out to grab the empty cup. The crisp note underneath the cup was another $20. And for the rest of the morning, Jason had been feeling pretty smug for getting Red Robin to agree to a new arrangement so quickly.

That feeling lasted until Jason was about to open the shop. He knelt down and unlocked the cupboard to get the tips jar out, only to see it once again stuffed full of purposely crumpled up notes. This time, there was even a little post-it note saying “ _ nice try :P _ ”.

Jason let out a gruff groan. He took the notes out, smoothed them into a neat stack and tried to think of his options. Clearly he had underestimated Red Robin’s lock picking skills.

Or perhaps the rumour that Bats had the ability to phase through walls held some level of truth. That would certainly explain how Red Robin managed to go past the locked shop door without a single sound every morning.

_ Maybe it was too obvious. I should hide it somewhere less noticeable. _

Not the kitchen. He didn’t want to risk contamination. Especially from someone who have been goodness-knows-where fighting goodness-knows-who. But there were other places in the shop.

He could always put the tips jar inside his flat. Although, the thought of that made him shudder. He wasn’t sure what he’d do about the knowledge, or rather the proof, that Red Robin could probably easily break into his private quarters.

_ Just hide it somewhere less obvious for now, _ Jason thought to himself. Maybe somewhere high up. Take advantage of the height difference.

It was with that thought in mind that Jason hid the tips jar in one of the upper cupboards. And when that failed, he hid it next to the special vents he’d installed in the ceiling. And then when  _ that _ failed, under the special floorboards of the shop.

Each time, Red Robin would dutifully find the jar and placed $180 worth of crumpled up notes inside it. Each time, there was an accompanying note, which got increasingly more condescending as time went on. Ranging from “ _ nope _ ” and “ _ too easy _ ” to “ _ are you even trying? _ ” and “ _ this was the easiest yet _ ”.

Jason even started hiding the tips jar in the storage cupboard. He placed it inside a cardboard box and sealed the box up with tape. Red Robin still found it. Red Robin even had the nerve to reseal the box with new tape.

It was doing Jason’s head in.

Eventually, after two weeks of hiding his tips jar and collecting a gigantic stack of money that the logical part of Jason was screaming at him to take to the bank, Jason gave in and resorted to desperate measures.

He took the tips jar home and locked it deep inside of his flat. Not for the first time, he wondered if he should have invested in a safe for his flat. He had a safe in the shop, but it was too small for the tall and bulky tips jar. And as much as he liked the idea of having a safe in his flat, it was too expensive of a luxury to indulge in.

He was a nervous wreck the next morning, though he did his best not to show it. Red Robin was courteous enough not to mention it either. And they went through the morning routine as per usual.

Jason expected Red Robin to execute his usual disappearing act. But when he came back out to the shop floor, Red Robin was standing by the till.

“Your tips jar appears to have left the premises,” Red Robin said with such a knowing tone that Jason had no doubt the kid knew exactly where the jar was currently located. “In the interest of maintaining boundaries, here’s money and tip for the coffee,” the kid said, holding out a wad of cash.

Jason blinked. He hadn’t really expected this. He hadn’t been sure what to expect, mostly been fearful and also berating himself for doing something so drastic. But he felt a swell of relieve in his heart that Red Robin did not break into his flat to continue this little game of theirs.

He stared at the money being offered and shook his head. “It’s on the house.” 

“I’d rather pay.”

“You  _ have _ paid,” Jason replied, pulling out the giant wad of tips that he’d been carrying for just such an occasion. He waved it in Red Robin’s direction now. “Even if I say the price of a single cup of coffee was $20 dollars, the money here is enough for another 72 cups at the very least.”

“Those were tips. For an exceptional service.” Red Robin said. He was clearly enjoying this, his tone was teasing and light and more energetic than Jason has heard. This kid was probably the type that got a rush from going to Debate Club. Or even arguing in general.

Or perhaps it was just the fact that they were having a regular conversation. Jason vaguely pondered if Red Robin had friends at school to debate with. Not that any vigilante worth their salt would share details of their personal life. But he couldn’t help wondering if the kid was clinging onto Jason’s bakery as a means of social interaction.

That was probably unfair to the kid. Jason didn’t know anything about him. Not really. Red Robin could be leading a superhero team for all Jason knew. He could be surrounded by friends. Perhaps Jason was just projecting his own loneliness onto the kid.

None of that mattered to the problem at hand of course.

“I cannot,” Jason said, enunciating as clearly and slowly as he could manage, “in good conscience, accept $200 for a cup of coffee every morning.”

“Sure you can,” Red Robin grinned. “You’ll get used to it in no time!”

“The bank is going to get suspicious.”

“No it won’t. It’s a consistent and regular increase, your business have simply improved.”

“Honestly, the whole thing makes me nervous. Like I owe you or something.”

It was like watching a bonfire being doused. The easy-going smile dropped away in an instant. Like a curtain snapping shut, cutting off the sunlight that had been previously streaming into the room.

Jason felt his skin crawl at the uneasy sight before him. Red Robin’s expression was distant, removed. It was like an impenetrable mask and slipped into place and the whole thing was chilling Jason to the bone. But he wasn’t going to back down from this.

With a movement faster than Jason could follow with his eyes, Red Robin snatched the wad of tips in Jason’s hand.

“You don’t owe me anything,” Red Robin said. He pulled out a single $20 bill and slapped it down on the counter. “For the coffee.”

Then, the vigilante left the shop. The little bell above the door ringing for once at his exit.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments everyone! I read every single one of them, usually more than once. They help me maintain motivation while I write. I’m so happy that everyone has been noticing and appreciating all the little details I put in the fic.

Red Robin does not appear at the shop the next morning. Not that Jason particularly expected him to. Given the frigid way he left, Jason wouldn’t be surprised if Red Robin didn’t reappear for at least a week. Possibly even longer.

In fact, there was even a chance that he never returned to the shop again. Red Robin might find another shop to fulfil his early morning coffee cravings. Customers have left his shop for less after all. Customers were fickle creatures to begin with. Humans were fickle creatures to begin with.

Jason slammed the dough down on the counter with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. He stopped and took a slow, deep breath to calm himself. It wouldn’t do for his bread to lose its quality just because one of his regular customers got a bit huffy for no apparent reason.

Gritting his teeth, Jason tried not to growl to himself as he carefully moulded the dough into a ball. What was that kid’s problem anyway? Jason tried to do the right thing and what does he get for it? An icy temper tantrum. Didn’t Red Robin know Jason was just trying to look out for him?

What was Batman going to say when he found out his sidekick was spending an extortionate amount of money to feed his coffee addiction? In fact, a school kid shouldn’t be addicted to coffee in the first place! What was he even-

Jason broke himself off from the useless, spiralling thoughts. The dough was perfectly round already. He should leave it alone for further proving and move onto the next piece. In fact, he wasn’t even following his usual, clinical methodology right now to begin with.

He took another deep breath. It didn’t help much. The anger was still simmering beneath his skin, threatening to break free. Which Jason was not going to let happen. He worked hard to get to where he was. He wasn’t going to jeopardize that just because some uppity vigilante didn’t understand the concept of equivalent exchange.

Jason paused, hand on his hips as he stared up at his ceiling. He didn’t know how it felt to have someone owe him. He’d always been on the other side of those equations. When his mother was alive, they constantly owed their landlord rent. His father too, his father was constantly owing people money.

Owing people wasn’t a feeling Jason wanted to experience ever again. Bank loan notwithstanding. Besides the loan was a solid contract. He had legal papers about his repayment plan and everything. It wasn’t the same as owing some vigilante that appeared and disappeared as he pleased.

Jason dropped the next piece of dough on the counter.

\---

The following day was a Monday. Ports Bakery was shut on a Monday. It’s Jason’s one day off in the week and he pretty much always goes to the library.

Today was no different. Jason let himself have his weekly lie-in, cooked himself a delicious breakfast (fluffy pancakes with blueberries and bacon and syrup), and then grabbed his jacket, picked up his bike and carefully walked down the stairs to his front door.

He hesitated at the door. It was 7:30am. Red Robin should be on his way to school right now. He wouldn’t be sitting outside Jason’s shop. Besides, Red Robin knew the bakery was shut on Mondays.

He peeked out of the peephole anyway. Nothing. Not that Jason could see the front of the shop from this vantage point. The peephole didn’t even let him see anyone crouching down at the foot of the door. Sasha told him that her neighbour had recently invested in a camera with their new doorbell. If Jason had any actual visitors, he might have thought that was a worthwhile investment.

For now though, he gripped his keys between his fingers and opened the door.

The street was empty, as per usual. It was 7:30am after all. And this road wasn’t really a place people wandered into for a walk. Jason stepped out into the crisp morning air and turned to lock up his flat.

He purposefully does not look over to his right, where his shop was located. Not until he’d triple-checked that every lock on his door was engaged.

And then he very casually glanced at the front of his shop.

Nothing.

Nobody was there. Of course not. What was Jason expecting.

He mentally shook his head at himself and tucked his keys into his jacket pocket. The Angler’s next to him had already brought out his wares. Jason carefully does not look at them either, least he got accused of wanting to steal something. In fact, he does not look around at all as he pushed his bike down onto the road.

Nothing was amiss from what he could see from the corner of his eyes. Just the usual, desolate looking row of shops on this little strip of a road between the fish market and the container ports. People only came down here for necessities.

Clipping on his helmet, Jason glanced up at his windows for a final check that they were all shut, and then began the long bike ride towards Gotham’s Central Library.

\---

The screams started before the explosions did. And the first thought Jason had was ‘Why today?’ Which was a pretty stupid thought. Gotham had some sort of criminal activity somewhere in the city every single day. A better question would have been ‘Why the library?’

Because honestly, they didn’t even have a group of school kids in the library today. It was the worst place to find hostages.

Like any Gothamite with even a semblance of survival instinct, the moment Jason heard screams, he ran in the opposite direction. He crouched down to avoid potential sprays of bullets and covered his mouth in a probably futile attempt to ward off any potential gas attacks.

It was hard to tell what you’d get with the Gotham villain crew. Screams and explosions followed most of them. It’s what comes after that was always worrying. Unlike with the Capes, Jason has read up everything he could get his hands on when it came to the Gotham Rogues.

He hoped it wasn’t the Joker. Or Scarecrow. Poison Ivy or Penguin he could probably deal with. And there’s always a 50% chance of surviving Two Face.

Of course, if it was one of the mobs, he was a deadman. But that was unlikely right? Why would Falcone or Maroni attack a library when there’s absolutely no one of importance there.

No. An attack on a public building at 2pm in the afternoon was likely one of the Crazies. Poison Ivy had held the library hostage about 5 months ago, citing that the amount of books in the building was an insult to vegetation or some such. Jason hadn’t been there. But he remembered reading it on his news app.

Considering no plants were shooting out from the ground, it was unlikely to be her. Which was a pity. Last time, Commissioner Gordan had managed to talk her down without even calling Batman. The whole thing had blown over in an hour and the library reopened the very next day.

‘As if I’d be so lucky,’ Jason thought to himself, ducking behind one of the sturdier bookshelves in the back.

The screams had come from the only door out of the library, and the windows were too high for Jason to reach them without being noticed and probably shot down. He could see the other patrons, all sweating and grimacing, but staying silent and hidden like him. They were Gothamites, this was just another day.

Jason couldn’t see much from his hiding spot. The Gotham Central Library was the biggest library in the city. It boasts an amazing maze of shelves. This was great to huddle behind. Not so great for seeing what was going on.

‘It better not be Firefly,’ Jason suddenly thought. Because if it was, high chance they were all dead. A single attack from the villain and the whole library would go up in smokes. It was tough to repress the shudder that came with the thought. Even though the explosions had sounded like they came from outside.

More screams, closer now. Inside. A maniacal laughter. Jason swallowed down the bile that was threatening to choke him. Joker? Was it the Joker. No, don’t jump to conclusions, lots of the Crazies laughed like that.

“Drop your books! And prepare to COWER before the uncanny  **Condiment King** !!!” a clear and distinct voice called out at the library.

Jason felt his entire body sag down in relief. It wasn’t the Joker. Thank goodness. In fact, who the hell is the Condiment King? Did he shoot condiments at people? Were those bombs he heard just extreme explosions of ketchup and mustard?

Just like that, Jason’s heart rate sped back up. The books were going to get damaged! He didn’t want to read books covered with ketchup and mustard. Couldn’t the guy have picked a place that would be easily hosed down once he was arrested? Like a carwash or something?

“I hereby hold ALL of you hostage. Now stan-” a strange squeal echoed along the bookshelves. And then a grunt. “You  _ hit  _ me!” Condiment King said, sounding rather indignant. Jason wondered if it was one of the librarians.

Either way, it didn’t look like his life was in any danger, which was good. And someone was clearly stopping Condiment King from sullying the books, which was better. The rest of the citizens were getting up too, much more relaxed now that they know it wasn’t one of Gotham’s Crazies. Not one of its true Crazies anyway. A guy calling himself Condiment King was plenty crazy by himself.

Jason wondered if he should find out what exactly was happening at the front. See which upstanding librarian was responsible for protecting the library’s books or whether he should wait it out to minimize risk. Just in case this Condiment King guy was actually brainwashed by the Mad Hatter or something.

A familiar voice made that decision for him.

“Yes, I hit you,” Red Robin’s voice was full of exasperated resignation. As if he would prefer to be anywhere but there. And Jason was running before he could even compute whether it was a good idea.

“How could you  _ hit _ me?” Condiment King was saying, sounding far too surprised for a villain who was only moments before trying to take a library hostage.

There was a crowd near the entrance of the library. Most of them had their phones out. If Jason had been even an inch shorter, he wouldn’t have been able to see anything at all. As it was, he only caught the barest glimpses of Red Robin tying up this guy wearing the most stupid costume and holding what appeared to be...a ketchup gun?

Jason didn’t know, he didn’t really care about the villain-wannabe. Red Robin was getting up from his crouch. Should Jason call out to him? What would he even say? And it’s not like Jason particularly want the world to know that Red Robin visited his bakery at 3am in the morning on a regular basis.

All this ran through Jason’s brain as Red Robin straightened up. The vigilante turned to the crowd, raising his hand in a small wave. And in that moment, their eyes met. Or rather, Jason’s eyes met those blank lenses on Red Robin’s mask. But he could tell that Red Robin could see him standing right there.

Jason opened his mouth, but still didn’t know what to say. And the fact that there was an entire crowd of cheering, clapping citizens between them wasn’t particularly helping matters.

Sirens were ringing closer. Red Robin turned away and tugged Condiment King to his feet, guiding him out of the library doors. Jason watched him go without a word.

\---

Red Robin was standing outside the shop the next morning. Jason blinked several times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.

The vigilante looked nervous, more nervous than Jason had ever seen him. And as Jason approached he seemed to brace himself for something.

Jason didn’t have to wait long to know what Red Robin was bracing himself for, because he’d barely walked two steps before the kid was talking.

“I didn’t know you were there,” Red Robin said, words tumbling out as if he had little control over them. It was very unlike him. “I didn’t know you were there okay. I didn’t go there to save you or anything. You don’t have to think you owe me for that either. I would have done it anyway. And you’re right, there are lots of other 24 diners around here, and I’m sorry for bothering you I’m going to go to those from now on.”

Oh. Jason felt a strange sense of understanding pass through him at that rush of explanation Red Robin blurted out in basically a single breath.

It was ridiculous of course, vigilantes went around saving people whether they wanted to be saved or not. Jason’s seen enough news reports about them catching citizens who tried jumping off the many tall buildings of Gotham. Jason hadn’t considered a single ulterior motive at the library.

Superheroes saved people. It’s been that way since before Jason was born.

There seemed to be some deeper trauma around obligation and whatnot with Red Robin, but Jason wasn’t a shrink. He didn’t know how to psycho-analyse people. Or even know how to help. He didn’t know what he could say that would ease whatever pain it was that Red Robin was holding tangled up inside of him. Was there anything he could say? Probably not.

“So...yeah,” Red Robin said after a moment of silence. It didn’t take a shrink to see the dejection radiating off him.

Jason sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Red Robin was hugging his arms and looking at the ground.

“You know, I got a new item for sale,” Jason said.

Red Robin didn’t respond.

“Pre-opening time coffee. Black, filtered, double shot. $20 per cup.”

Red Robin tentatively looked up at him.

“You want one?”

There was another pause. But then Red Robin slowly smiled. A small, hesitant smile.

“Sure,” Red Robin said.

“Alright then,” Jason said. He unlocked the door to his bakery and held it open. “After you.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for every single comment. Some of them made me laugh, others made me smile, more than one comment made me just sit there in a happy puddle of uwu.
> 
> A few of you mentioned things I wanted to reply to but couldn't because of spoilers. But I will say this. I have a LOT planned for this fic. A lot planned. To the point that I may have to add additional tags as and when it becomes appropriate.
> 
> This is a slow burn fic, and I thank you all for sticking with me so far. I hope you'll continue to enjoy the events of this story. :)

Red Robin was inside the shop before Jason so much as unlocked the door. Jason startled in surprise, then frowned at the scattering of bolts and screws and wires and motherboards strewn all around the teen.

He pulled the door open carefully.

“What are you doing?” Jason asked, not wanting to step inside in case he tread on something sharp. Or something important.

“Jason, you’re early!” Red Robin exclaimed, looking sort of disheveled. Jason still had no idea what the hell the vigilante was doing sitting on his shop floor with bits of metal everywhere.

He grimaced, he was going to have to mop the floor before opening today. Great.

“It’s 3:30,” Jason said, looking down and trying to find a clear patch of ground so he wasn’t standing in the doorway. It didn’t help that the various bits of metal were all pretty small and tiny and easily kicked under the drinks fridge or worse, the cakes counter.

“It can’t be, I just got here,” Red Robin frowned, tapping something on his wrist. Jason nearly jumped out of his skin when a neon green hologram shot up into the air, showing the numbers 3:31. “Oh...” Another hesitant pause. “I’ll clean up,” Red Robin said quickly.

Jason wasn’t sure what the kid was going to do, if he was going to crawl along the ground sweeping bits of metal. He briefly wondered if he should offer Red Robin his dustpan and brush.

Instead, Red Robin pulled something out of a pocket from his utility belt. It wasn’t a device that was familiar to Jason, but he watched as Red Robin switched it on. The device whirred ominously.

Then suddenly every tiny bit of metal in front of the device shot towards it. Red Robin turned slowly in a circle, whilst staying completely seated. If Jason wasn’t so distracted by the way the pieces of whatevers were flying towards the machine like some crazy sci-fi book, he might have been flabbergasted by the way the vigilante moved without looking like he was moving.

“What the hell was that?” Jason yelped when the floor in front of him was clear enough to step on. He shut the shop door behind him, locking it in place.

“What do you mean?” Red Robin frowned.

“That...thing in your hand,” Jason waved at it.

“Oh this? It’s just a vacuum.”

Jason gaped. He’d never seen a vacuum so small and yet so powerful at the same time. Not that he’s seen many vacuums in his lifetime. Nor was he a scientist by any means.

“A very strong vacuum,” Red Robin clarified when Jason didn’t reply. “Which I maneuvered to only pick up what I want.”

“Right...” Jason said. He didn’t care anymore. As familiar as Red Robin was getting, every now and then he’d do something like this that reminded Jason that vigilantes lived in a different world. “Usual?”

“Yes please,” Red Robin beamed. Jason resisted the urge to ruffle his hair. One, he was a customer, and two, the kid might flip him onto the ground as an automatic reaction. Jason didn't want to risk a concussion.

Instead, he turned on the coffee machine.

“You staying for breakfast?” Jason asked.

“Probably not, there’s a pop quiz today and I haven’t read the book assignment yet.” Red Robin was still on the floor, Jason noticed. He had a screwdriver in one hand and was poking at some metal gauntlet-looking thing.

That was the other thing Jason wasn’t used to. Apparently Red Robin was a genius. A bonafide genius. As if being a crime fighting vigilante wasn’t enough.

By the time Jason had finished the coffee, Red Robin had settled down at his usual table.

“Any reason why you’re updating your gear in my shop?”

“It’s not my gear,” Red Robin replied. “It’s a weapon confiscated from a world-famous assassin. I was examining it.”

Jason didn’t really know what to say to that. Not for the first time he wondered if it was a good idea for Red Robin to share info like this with him. But it’s not like Jason was going to go hunt for a world-famous assassin for no reason. And the details of the Bats’ enemies had always been common knowledge.

Besides, there were more important questions to ask.

“Did you take it into the kitchen?” he asked.

Red Robin rolled his eyes. “Of course not.”

“Just checking,” Jason said as he headed to the back to start on the bread.

\---

It turned into a thing, Red Robin appearing  _ inside _ his shop before opening time turned into a thing. Jason was still getting used to the fact that Red Robin visiting his shop every morning was a thing. And now he was just, letting himself in. Jason didn’t even have to get him a key.

He supposed it was better than finding the kid sitting outside of his shop door. But it was still kind of disorientating to see a shadow inside of his shop. Makes him jump every time.

That was probably why Red Robin did it. The brat.

“What is it this time?” Jason sighed as he closed and locked the door behind him. Red Robin was seated at his usual table. But there were stacks of paper, books and workbooks spread out around him.

“Homework.”

“All this?” Jason frowned, careful not to walk too close. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the name of Red Robin’s school. Seemed like the type of knowledge that was bound to attract the criminal underworld. And he had no interest in being part of the criminal underworld.

“For the next month,” Red Robin said. “The ones that the teachers have already planned anyway. Figured I’d get through them now, since it was a quiet night and all.”

Quiet night meant not much crime happening. Or that the type of crime were all things the police could handle on their own. It still boggled Jason’s mind that he knew so much about the vigilante lifestyle. It was so different to imagining them as dark, shadowy guardian angels of Gotham.

“Right…” Jason said slowly, meandering his way to the back. “Usual?”

“Yes please,” Red Robin said. “And breakfast, if that’s alright with you.”

It was definitely alright with Jason. Red had been looking a little thin lately, and Jason couldn’t help but feel relieved when he was able to just feed the kid. He’d started stocking more food in his little kitchenette as a result. He was sure Sasha had noticed, but she didn’t say anything.

The breakfast Jason were making were getting bigger too, at least, when Red Robin were around. But the vigilante didn’t say anything either. And unlike with other things, Jason wasn’t sure Red Robin noticed.

This lack of self-care worried Jason.

The way Jason was apparently turning into a mother hen was worrying too. But nowhere near as much as wanting Red Robin to eat more.

Besides, it was for the good of Gotham. How was a vigilante supposed to fight crime when they’re wasting away due to lack of nutrition and fuel.

Jason shook his head. Not motherhenning. He was a baker. Not a nanny. He just liked feeding his guests. Yes, that was all this was.


End file.
